Leave Me Unholy And Dirty And Beautiful
by xephwrites
Summary: A series of snapshots looking into the kinkier side of Dean. WARNINGS: smut, sex, promiscuity. Please see individual chapters for additional warnings/pairings. Taken from spn 30snapshots community on LJ May contain SLASH!
1. Chapter 1

**Character(s)/Pairing:** Dean, Dean/OFCs

**Summary:** Agent Nick Monroe gives Dean a treat at the strip club they're both investigating

**Warnings:** Set during ep 4.13 _Sex And Violence_, wax play, sensation play

**Prompt:** 16 wax play

* * *

So maybe some FBI agents weren't all bad. Like Agent Nick Monroe, who had now officially reached "Made Of Pure Awesome" status in Dean Winchester's mind. Thanks to Nick, Dean was currently sitting on the stage of the strip club they were investigating, with three strippers giving him a lap dance. He had no clue how Nick pulled this off, or even how Dean will thank him. He'll think about that after three half naked women stop rubbing up against him.

Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar On Me was blaring through the crappy sound system. So it was a little clichéd, but it was still fantastic!

"Can I open your shirt?" the blonde currently straddling his legs whispered in his ear. Dean smirked and nodded. "Can we have some fun with you?" the redhead to his left asked. Dean nodded again.

The blonde on his lap tugged open his tie. She pulled on both ends, bringing Dean's face forward to brush in between her unnaturally large breasts. The redhead slid his jacket off.

He could hear cheering coming from the other dancers that were not currently busy with other men in the club. He got it. It's entirely possible that the girls get a little bored with the monotony of their jobs. So they take their fun where they can.

The redhead pushed him to rest against the back of the chair again. The blonde removed the tie and dropped it beside them. She loosened the top button, her neon pink acrylic nails scratching his neck slightly. After the second button popped open, she flashed a devilish smile.

"Sorry." She whispered and ripped the shirt open. At least one of the guys in pervert's row ended up with a button in his drink. Dean fought with himself to keep his hands at his sides. He loved when women got a little rough.

The brunette appeared at his side holding a large pillar candle and a glass of ice. A bolt of nervousness and desire shot through his body. The blonde laughed, grinding down on his now half hard cock.

"Guess we don't need to ask if that's okay." Dean threw his head back, squashing the urge to thrust upwards. The redhead cupped his jaw and held his head gently so the very uninteresting ceiling was in his line of sight. The blonde shifted so that she was balanced on his knees.

Thank God he's not a hairy beast like Dad. That would suck.

The first splash of wax hit his sternum. His hands gripped the legs of the chair and he gasped loudly. It burned, it hurt just a little, but it felt so fucking good. The hot liquid began to harden, making the tender flesh tingle even more. His blood sang as the painful pleasure radiated from his chest.

He shuddered and tried to pull away as an ice cube traced the taut muscle line of his neck. His eyes fluttered closed as his nerve endings went into overdrive. The ice cube moved away, but left a small droplet, now snaking its way towards his collar bone. The tip of a warm tongue caught it.

"You girls are evil." Dean panted. He heard them giggling and moving around, getting themselves into position for the next onslaught of torture.

The second splash of wax landed in the small dip between his neck and collar bone. He hissed as a bit of the wax spilled over the bone and hardened a little further down his chest. His hips bucked upwards as the ice cube ran down the small path of hair from his belly button to belt buckle.

"Aw. No tongue this time?" He said with a playful grin. The girls giggled again. The redhead released the light hold she had on his head. The blonde and brunette each straddled one of Dean's legs. They both were grinding down on him in time with the song.

The splashes of wax fell in a random pattern on his chest. The ice cubes were melting a little faster from the heat radiating from Dean's skin. He hadn't been this turned on, this strung out with desire in a while. He was achingly hard, and the inside of his boxer briefs was wet from precum.

"Last one," the redhead whispered. Dean was panting at this point. He was going to die, again. But that was just fine with him.

Hot wax hit one nipple and the last ice cube touched the other. Dean threw his head back as a loud gasp was torn from him. The sensation was almost too much, and Dean had to fight with himself not to come in his pants like a teenager. The three dancers were laughing with delight, as they handed him his discarded clothing. The dancers in the audience, and a few of the patrons, were applauding. Dazed, Dean smiled and raised a hand to the crowd. He made his way off the stage and back to their table. Agent Nick Monroe was clapping with a huge grin on his face.

Dean was going to thank him. And he knew just the way to do it.


	2. Call Me What You Will

**Character(s)/Pairing:** Dean, Dean/Anna

**Summary:** Anna comes back for another round.

**Warnings:** Hot, sweaty angelsex of the het nature.

**Prompt:** 06: say my name

* * *

Dean had no idea how Anna had found him, but he could really care less. When she entered the hotel room, she gave no greeting. Just pushed him down onto the bed and kissed him like she was trying to eat him. Since she regained her grace, she was definitely more forceful. And Dean had no complaints about that.

The last time, their first time, was gentle, tender, beautiful even. This? This was all about need, want and just doing. Dean wasn't sure which way was better.

As she pulled his shirt over his head, he had a fleeting thought to check and see if Sam was attempting sleep in the other bed. The thought left him completely as she bit lightly on one of his now exposed nipples. Dean thought he heard fabric tearing as they pulled the rest of their clothes off of each other.

Once skin to skin, Dean noticed that she felt warmer now. Everywhere she touched him tingled, making his nerve endings more sensitive. Every brush of lips and fingertips rushed through his body, straight to his cock. He knew that he was starting to make embarrassing needy noises, but he didn't care.

He ran his hands down her bare back to rest on her hips. He leaned up and bit on her collarbone. Her body went rigid at the bite, and Dean tried to maneuver her down onto him. He needed to be inside her now.

The head of his cock found her wet folds. He pulled her down roughly, buried himself to the hilt in that one movement. They both groaned at the sensation of coming together. She set their pace, fast and unforgiving. There was no way he would last long at all.

He pulled her down roughly, fisting one hand into her long red hair.

"Anathiel." He whispered against her throat. She gasped loudly and bucked her hips.

"Say it again." She panted, riding him faster.

"Anathiel." He said louder. His hands gripped her back and he thrust up harder. Their lips met harshly, and it was more teeth than tongue. She grabbed his wrists and pinned them above his head with one hand. Nose to nose, they panted into each others mouths with eyes locked. Their rhythm began to falter as they both neared their peaks.

"Come for me." Dean panted. "Come for me, Anathiel." She threw her head back and screamed his name as her orgasm tore through her. Her muscles clenching around him and the erratic motion of her hips was more than enough to bring about his orgasm. He grunted and bit down hard on her neck as he released in her.

She collapsed on top of him, trying to catch her breath. He stroked her spine lightly and placed lazy kisses on her shoulder.

"So, angels come when you say their true names?" Dean chuckled against her. She breathed out a slight laugh. "Not exactly," she said against his neck. There was a scraping sound from the door. She went rigid. When they heard the sound again, she kissed Dean softly on the lips, then disappeared in a flutter. Dean barely had time to pull the covers up to his waist as Sam pushed the door open. Sam stopped halfway in the door.

"If I'm interrupting…" he started. Dean sighed and waved him in.

"She's gone." He said, flopping backwards on the bed. A smile spread across his face. "But it was epic."


	3. Everybody Begs In Time

**Character(s)/Pairing:** Dean, Dean/The Chief

**Prompt:** 30. begging

**Spoilers: **4.12 _Criss Angel Is A Douchebag_

**Summary:** Instead of returning to the hotel, Dean goes back to see The Chief

**Warnings:** flogging, begging, mild humilliation, aftercare (if that counts as a warning!)

* * *

"You came back." The Chief said, tapping the flogger against his leg. Dean nodded, gaze dropping to the floor. "And only twenty minutes. Impressive. What's your safe word?" Dean swallowed nervously.

"Impala," he choked out. The Chief smiled.

"Follow." The Chief turned and walked back into the club. Dean followed, his stomach doing flips. He really should be working on the case. He knew that initially, those ancient illusionists sent him here to pull one over on him. Something inside told him as he was leaving here the first time that he needed this. To be willing to go through with this may just help him deal with what happened in the Pit.

"Strip to your underwear," The Chief commanded. Hands trembling, Dean worked quickly. There was no need to put on a show. When he was down to his boxer briefs, he kept his eyes to the floor.

"Hands on the wall, feet shoulder width apart." Dean did as he was told. The Chief ran a hand over his well muscled back. "I'm going to mark you up so pretty." Dean kept his breathing even, waiting.

The first blow took him by surprise, landing in between his shoulders. It stung briefly, and then it turned into a pleasant burning feeling. "You like that?" The Chief asked. Dean nodded, and dropped his head. "Do you want more?" Dean nodded again, arching his back. The next blow landed a little lower, making Dean gasp. The Chief laughed and stepped up to stand beside him. The Chief trailed the beaded ends of the flogger across the hunter's broad shoulders.

"You want more? You want me to mark you up? Want me to make you come?" The Chief breathed into Dean's ear. A shiver ran through his body as he nodded frantically. "Then beg me for it." The Chief took his original position and waited. Dean clenched his hands and bit his lip. "Pretty boys like you never like to beg. But they always do in the end." Dean flushed. He did hate to beg, but he needed this badly.

Nearly a minute passed before Dean caved. "Please, more. I want more." His voice trembled as the words fell from him. Shame burned in his face. The Chief laughed from behind him. Another blow hit him on the lower back. "More!" He threw his head back as the next blow caught him on his left thigh, and moaned.

He kept whimpering, begging after every blow he took. His back, shoulders and legs were covered in a red crisscross pattern. He was shuddering, he needed to come.

"Please!" He breathed. "I need-I need. Oh God, I need to come!" He felt the warmth of The Chief beside him.

"You need to come?" Dean nodded frantically. "Since you've been such a good boy." The Chief flicked the flogger between his legs, so the beads tapped his balls and leaking cock. And that was enough.

Dean threw his head back and screamed as white head flooded his body. He spurted into his underwear as his legs began to give out. A large broad arm caught him, and gently lowered him to the floor.

"Such a good boy. You did so well." The Chief crooned into his ear as he rubbed the welts on his back. "So good. Did that so well." Dean nodded at the words of praise, trying to come back to himself. He felt a straw poke at his lips. "Water." The Chief said. Dean took the straw into his mouth and drank. The cool liquid was such a contrast to the heat coming from his body.

He sat like that, coming back to his senses as the large man spoke softly to him, gently rubbing at the damage he had inflicted not minutes before. When the shakes had disappeared and the room was no longer spinning, he pulled away.

"Thank you." He said, finally making eye contact with the large man. "I think I'm good to go now." They both stood together. The Chief handed Dean his clothes.

"Bathroom's right over there if you need it." Dean started pulling on his clothes.

"I'll do that when I get back to the hotel." Dean said with a smirk, zipping up his pants over his come-soaked underwear.


	4. Not So Impolite To Stare

**Character(s)/Pairing:** Dean

**Spoilers:** No spoilers

**Summary:** Dean has a new purchase and the hotel room to himself

**Warnings:** Set in 3.4 _Sin City_ but nothing to do with what happens in the episode, crossdressing, masturbation, narcissistic indulgence

* * *

Dean picked through his duffel, thankful that Sam had decided to go elsewhere for a few hours. There, at the very bottom, was the set he bought. It was black with hints of purple running through it. The bra was padded, the panties sheer. His cock gave a very interested twitch as he pulled them out of the bag.

He placed the set on the bathroom counter and undressed for his shower. It was so hard not to let his mind wander to what was going to be happening after the shower. He fought the urge to jerk off right then and there under the stream of hot water.

He dried off in record time. With his back to the mirror in the bathroom, he stepped into the sheer panties. They fit snugly on his hips, and the head of his cock peeked out over the tiny elastic waistband. He brushed his hand across his fabric encased cock and moaned. He slipped his arms through the straps of the bra and slid them to his shoulders. He reached around to his back, fidgeting with the hooks. Once the bra was secure around his ribcage, he pulled the cups down to rest where they should, if he had breasts. Not that he actually wanted them.

He walked quickly across the large bedroom, fighting the urge to look up. When he reached the edge of his bed, he closed his eyes and crawled on. He positioned himself in the dead center, desperately wanting to take a peek. He gave himself a few seconds, and then opened his eyes.

He saw himself, spread out and fucking gorgeous. He moaned at the sight. The bra and panties did not make him appear feminine at all. Somehow, the delicate fabric around his chest made his muscles stand out more. He groaned and ran his hands down his chest, over the bra, and down towards the panties.

One hand rested against his cock and the other a little further down to cup his balls. The sheer fabric felt so damned good against his heated skin. He ran his eyes over his reflection as he started to move his hands. He squeezed his sac lightly and rubbed the fabric against his leaking cock. His breath hitched, and he moved a bit faster. He bucked his hips upwards into his hand. There was no way that this was going to last long at all. The friction, the light constriction around his ribs, and the look of it all was too much.

He grunted, feeling that familiar tingling rush through his body. He pressed his cock harder and squeezed his sac a little more, causing his hips to thrust erratically. His breathing was more ragged as he bucked harder and faster into his hand. Like a guitar string snapping, his orgasm rushed through him. His hips shot off the bed as the first pulse hit. He couldn't tear his eyes away from his own face, mouth opened, eyes half lidded and filled with lust. He spilled himself onto his hand and stomach, and probably got some on the panties.

He lay there, catching his breath, coming down from the amazing orgasm. He smiled at himself and gave a small chuckle.

"Sam was right." He panted. "I am a narcissistic bastard."


	5. A Shadow Is Cast Wherever He Stands

**Pairing:** Dean, Dean/Hendriksen

**Summary:** Hendriksen is investigating in a strip club when he gets distracted by a dancer.

**Warnings:** Stripper!Dean

**Prompt:** # 20 teasing

**Notes:** I really wanted to write a Stripper!Dean fic, and here it is. I'm really unsure why my warped mind chose Hendriksen, but it works. Also, the song he dances to, and the lyrics within are from _Red Right Hand_ by Nick Cave And The Bad Seeds. Cause seriously? An exotic dance to that song would be hotter than the freaking sun!

* * *

Victor Hendriksen was on a case. He was here with his partner, investigating a string of murders of male exotic dancers. He was supposed to be questioning the club's employees. Instead, he was drawn to the stage by the dancer.

He was graceful and beautiful. He had pale skin with a light dusting of freckles, dark blond hair and these vibrant green eyes. Every step, every twitch of hips, and every subtle teasing touch was perfectly timed to the music.

_On a gathering storm comes__  
__a tall handsome man__  
__In a dusty black coat with__  
__a red right hand_

The dancer wrapped himself around the brass pole and began dry humping it. But it wasn't obscene. Every move he made was fluid, enticing. Hell, it made Victor's very heterosexual dick twitch.

Victor couldn't help it. He had to take a seat in pervert's row. He couldn't turn his attention away from this young dancer.

The dancer dropped to the floor, lying down on his back. His hands began to roam all over his nearly naked body. His body twitched and arched, like there was someone on top of him. One hand trailed down to cup his dick through the shimmery fabric of his g-string. He gave a few strokes before rising up onto his knees.

_He's a god, he's a man,__  
__he's a ghost, he's a guru_

He drew two fingers into his mouth and sucked on them, his hips bucking forward into his hand. His head dropped back, exposing his long neck. He popped the fingers out of his mouth and trailed them down his chest. The lights on the stage made the trail glisten. The dancer's mouth opened like he was moaning.

Victor reached for his wallet. He didn't even notice what bill he pulled out. It could be any amount. He didn't care. He rested his wrist on the tiny rail at the edge of the stage. The dancer caught sight of him out of the corner of his eye.

The dancer pitched forward, bracing himself on his hands. He started crawling towards Victor. His whole body slinked, like a cat, as he made his way to the other side of the stage.

_A shadow is cast wherever he stands__  
__Stacks of green paper in his__  
__red right hand_

He kneeled in front of Victor, his hips and shoulders still swaying to the beat of the song. His eyes were shining with mischief and desire. Victor lifted the bill towards him. The dancer leaned forward, mouth open, and took the edge of the bill in his teeth and tugged. Victor smiled and held the bill a bit tighter. The corner of the dancer's mouth turned up and tugged a bit more.

Victor released the bill, and the dancer winked before sitting back on his heels. He folded the bill in half and trailed it down his chest. He circled one of his nipples with it, throwing his head back. He trailed it further down and tucked it inside his g-string. Victor saw a brief glimpse of dark wiry hair as the bill disappeared.

The song ended and the audience broke into applause. The dancer stood and gave a wink to the crowd before sauntering off the stage.

Victor stood from his seat, adjusting himself. He scanned the bar, looking for his partner. He was in deep conversation with a man standing at the bar with his back to the stage.

Victor kept that dance, that man, tucked in the very back of his mind.

Several years later, a case file hit his desk. Opening it, he damned near spit his coffee all over it.

It's a small fucking world after all.


	6. Playing With Others

The roadhouse was quiet today. Ellen gave Dean and Sam run of the place. Ash was nowhere to be seen, and Jo was supposed to be cleaning. Instead she was playing a friendly game of pool with Sam.

Dean walked into the storage room, in search of pork rinds. Jo mentioned something about a case being in there when she was doing inventor y earlier. He moved a few small boxes and hello? What's this here?

Dean picked up a tiny black remote that was on the floor behind a bag of potatoes. It must have fallen out of a pocket or something. It had a switch and an up and down button. A knowing smile crossed Dean's face. He knew exactly what this was.

Jo was the adventurous sort, but Dean never suspected she would be the type to wear a remote controlled vibrator at work. Dean grinned and slipped it into his pocket and grabbed the box of pork rinds.

He set the box on the bar and opened it. He took a bag out for himself and settled on a stool. He looked over to the pool table. Jo was leaning over, about to take a shot. Dean pulled the remote out and hit the on button.

Nothing. She didn't twitch, or make a noise. She took the shot and sunk her ball. She walked around to the other side of the table with ease. Dean hit the up button to the second setting. She blew a lock of hair out of her vision and took another shot.

Dean frowned. He tapped the remote, and checked the on light. It was working. Why wasn't she reacting?

Jo playfully nudged Sam in the ribs as she lined up her next shot. Fuck it, Dean thought. He hit the up button to its full power. There was no way she would not react.

She sank her shot, cheering. Sam sighed and handed her a twenty. Dean turned off the remote. Bitch must have a steel vagina or something.

Defeated, he made his way back to the storage room and placed the remote where he found it.

In the office, Ellen panted as she came down from her orgasm.


	7. Fumbling In The Dark

**Pairing:** Dean/Pamela

**prompt:** Blindfolds

**A/N:** selected by gippywhite when I was stuck on something to write.

* * *

Dean fastened the small silk scarf around his eyes. It seemed only fair. After all, Pamela was doing this blindly, so why shouldn't he?

"I always thought that you'd be kinky," she said, reaching up to find his shoulders. He could hear the smile in her voice. Dean chuckled and leaned forward, following the sound of her breathing.

His lips brushed the bottom of her jaw. They both chuckled softly. Dean dragged his bottom lip up, searching for her mouth. He found her soft lips, and kissed gently. She made a moaning noise and pushed him onto his back. Dean made a surprised noise.

"Don't tell me you don't like a take charge girl," she said teasingly. She straddled his hips and leaned down to kiss him. One hand found its way into her hair and the other rested on the small of her back.

She broke the kiss quickly, trailing her lips down the side of his neck. Her tongue traced the leather string of his amulet. She took the amulet in her teeth and tugged. Her hand slid up under his shirt, circling one of his nipples.

"Oh, they are perky," she said playfully. Dean chuckled and threaded his fingers through her soft hair. He caught the light scent of her shampoo.

She pushed the hem of his shirt up to expose said perky nipples. Dean noticed the slight temperature change on them almost immediately. Her warm tongue circled one, making Dean gasp slightly.

"Feels better when you can't see, doesn't it?" She asked, making her way over to the other. Dean managed to make a noise of acknowledgement.

Everywhere she touched him felt electrified. The tips of her nails were sharp, her lips warm and the trail of saliva cool.

She scraped her teeth just under his belly button, following the fine trail of hair leading down to the top of his jeans. Her nails dragged down the sides of his ribs, stopping at his hips. He rolled his hips, urging her to go further. She giggled as she tickled his sides. Dean laughed and tried to twist away, batting at her hands.

She stopped her tickling and let her hands trail along the top of his jeans. Dean's laughter morphed into a sigh. He tugged at her hair lightly.

She undid the button, her fingers working quickly. She pulled down the zipper. Dean could feel the click of every tooth against his hardening cock, sending shockwaves through his system. He couldn't resist making a slight whimper.

She pulled down his pants and boxers in one shot. His cock sprang free, making Dean moan. The freedom felt great, but he needed contact.

His whole body arched off the bed as Pamela's wet warm tongue ran from base to tip of his cock. His hand gripped her hair a little tighter than he would normally go.

"Jesus," he groaned as she repeated the action. Wet warmth covered the head and his moan almost echoed in the room. She chuckled around the head, sending intense vibrations through him.

He couldn't help it as he thrust up further into her mouth. She relaxed her jaw and took as much of him as she could, bobbing her head down to meet his thrusts.

Dean was making embarrassing noises, and he could really care less. This was definitely the best blowjob he'd ever received.

Pamela scratched her nails against his hips and hollowed her cheeks. Dean felt the familiar wave of impeding orgasm wash through his body. His thrusts became more erratic.

"Holy shit," he whispered as he felt his orgasm hit. The sensation radiated through his whole body. Every nerve ending buzzed with pleasure as he spilled into her mouth.

He fell back onto the bed boneless and dizzy. He panted as his body twitched with the aftershocks. Pamela kissed up his trembling body, pulling a few soft groans from him. She pressed her now naked body against his. His erection did not flag one bit.

"Ready for more?" She purred in his ear.

He rolled on top of her, taking her earlobe between his teeth. He growled and tugged on it playfully.

"Sweetie, I can go all night."


	8. There Ain't No Mercy For Swine

**Pairing:** Dean/Jo

**Prompt:** licking

**A/N **Title is from Cherry Poppin Daddies song "No Mercy For Swine".

* * *

Dean had two months left, so he decided to make the best of it. Taking a chance, he ended up at the bar Jo Harvell was now working.

"Dean," she said, hip cocked and a smile on her face. "Didn't I tell you to stay the hell away?"

"What, a guy can't have a drink in the company of an old friend," he shot back, arms stretched out.

What few patrons were there watched as Jo came out from behind the bar and give Dean a hug.

"Missed you," she said, pulling back from the friendly embrace. "But only a little."

Dean laughed as he sat at a small table. Jo walked back behind the bar and removed her apron.

"Steve," she called. An older man peeked out from the back room. "It's slow and an old friend came in from out of town." The man nodded and shooed her away. She took an unopened bottle of tequila from the storage cabinet under the bar. She picked up a small metal container, a salt shaker and two shot glasses. She plopped down in the chair beside Dean with a sigh.

"Drinking where you work," Dean said, pulling one of the glasses in front of him. "Pretty ballsy."

"They look out for me," she said, cracking the seal on the bottle. "'Sides, we've got the best tequila in the county." She filled both glasses and set the bottle between them on the table. Dean handed her the salt shaker.

"Ladies first," he said. One of the men at the bar laughed.

"She ain't no lady," he said, giving Jo a wink.

"Bite me, Tommy," she said before licking the inside of her wrist. Dean watched her as she shook some salt onto the same spot. She handed the shaker back, and Dean followed suit. Jo handed him a lime and took one for herself.

"Bottoms up," Dean said. They both licked the salt from their wrists and downed their shots. They both made a sour face as they bit into the lime wedges.

Dean slammed his glass back on the table.

"That's some damned good tequila," he said, dropping the lime on an unused coaster.

"Told ya," Jo said. "Best in the county." She pushed away from the table and walked back up to the bar. Steve opened two bottles of beer and handed them to her.

Three beers and four shots later, Dean was feeling pretty good. Jo was telling stories about some of the regulars in the bar. Jo set up the next round of shots.

She salted her wrist and held her lime in the same hand. Dean's hand shot out and held her wrist. He winked at her before leaning down and licking the salt from the inside of her wrist. Her eyes fluttered shut as his tongue ran across the pulse point.

Dean drank the shot in front of him. He leaned back over and bit the lime she held. He heard a few catcalls from the people in the bar. Jo exhaled loudly.

"You taste good," Dean muttered, refilling the shot. Dean went to lick his own wrist, but Jo stopped him.

She stuck her tongue out and licked the tips of two fingers. She trailed her saliva along her collar bone. She shook some salt onto the spot. She carefully took Dean's shot and nestled it in between her breasts. She placed a lime wedge in her mouth, meaty side out.

Dean ignored the whistles as he leaned over. He swiped his tongue along her collar bone, using a longer swipe than necessary. Resting his hands on her knees, he opened his mouth and caught the rim of the shot glass between his teeth. He carefully eased it from between her breasts and threw his head back. He placed the empty glass on the table and bit the lime that was in her mouth.

Dean spit the lime onto the table and leaned back over to Jo. They were nose to nose. He was about to go in for a kiss when her finger landed on his mouth.

"This I'm going to die so I want to get into your pants thing," Jo whispered. Dean nodded. "It ain't gonna happen." She pushed her chair away and stood up. "Next time, it might. Keep trying," she said as she walked towards the door.

Dean slumped back in his chair and stared at the ceiling.

"Good night boys," she called as she exited the bar.

"At least she didn't leave you standing on the side of the road in your underwear," Tommy said.

"You guys know what she's like," Steve said, placing another beer in front of Dean. "She shows no mercy for swine."


	9. Extreme Temperatures

**Pairing:** Dean/Castiel (UST)

**Prompt:** Heated

**A/N:** This will be the only Dean/Cas installment in this verse. Why, you ask? Cause I've already got TONS of Dean/Cas stuff I'm working on. :)

* * *

It's a hot day in Sioux Falls. So hot, in fact, Dean has taken a seat in front of a fan, wearing nothing but a pair of cut off jeans, nursing a beer. The book about demons on his lap has been open to the same page for fifteen minutes. It's too hot to gather the energy to turn the page.

"Bobby," Dean called into the kitchen. "When are you going to get an air conditioner?"

Dean heard something to the extent of "shut up, you idjit," from the kitchen. Dean swallowed the last of his now warm beer. He sent a longing look to the fridge twenty feet away. He knew thirst would override lethargy eventually, but not yet.

He heard the ruffle of Castiel entering the kitchen. Perfect timing.

"Cas," he called. "Bring me a beer, would ya?"

"Get it yourself, idjit," Bobby shouted back. Dean heard Cas saying something to Bobby before the unmistakable sound of a fridge opening and closing.

"Perhaps you should do it yourself next time," Castiel said as he handed the ice cold bottle to Dean.

"Thanks, man," he said, looking up at the angel.

Dean damn near swallowed his tongue.

Castiel had ditched the over coat and suit jacket. His blue tie was draped around his neck, the sleeves were rolled up and the first three buttons of the dress shirt were undone.

"Is everything alright, Dean," Castiel asked, tilting his head slightly. Dean watched as a bead of sweat fell from behind Castiel's ear, running down the long pale neck.

Dean had a fleeting thought of what an angel's sweat would taste like.

"Yeah," Dean said, shaking his head to get rid of the thought. "Didn't think you'd be feeling the heat yourself."

"One of the many drawbacks of my Grace fading," Castiel said as he pulled up a chair. Once seated, he took the book from Dean's lap. "Anything of interest?"

Dean caught sight of Castiel's bare chest when he moved. Castiel, Jimmy rather, took good care of himself. Dean shook his head when Cas raised his eyebrows.

Castiel sat back in the chair and began to read. Dean couldn't help but stare. He watched as the angel turned each page carefully. The back of his hand came up frequently to wipe the sweat off his brow.

Dean couldn't help himself wonder what it would be like to have the angel underneath him. He bit back a soft groan, imagining the sweet and salty taste of Cas' skin. He figured that the unruly hair would be soft and damp in his hands.

He sat and imagined the two of them, sweaty, hot and naked, tongues and hands roaming everywhere. He bit his lip at the thought of that pale flesh twitching, the angel arching up for more contact.

The heat would be unbearable, but worth it. His dick twitched in his cut offs. Dean would leave a long trail of bites down the side of the angel's neck, down on to his chest. His tongue would trace every rib, and every ripple of muscle. He'd make Cas scream his name over and over and….

"Dean," Castiel said, snapping him out of his fantasy. "I find your inappropriate thoughts very distracting," the angel said calmly. Castiel turned another page in the book.

"I, uh," Dean stumbled, a flush creeping up his neck. Bastard can still read minds.

"Perhaps you should do something else to cool yourself down," Castiel commented, his eyes never leaving the book.

"Good idea," Dean mumbled, standing from the chair. "Gonna take a shower."

The water was cool and refreshing on Dean's skin. He leaned back against the cold tiles, dick in hand, continuing his fantasy.


	10. Fine Art Of Cocktail Mixing

**Pairing:** Dean/OFC

**Prompt:** rimming

**A/N:** So I couldn't help but going this route with this fic!

* * *

"So you've never worked in a bar before?" The bar manager Sally asked with a raised eyebrow. Dean put on the best innocent face he could muster.

"No Ma'am," he drawled. He resisted adding a wink. For a woman of forty, she was pretty hot.

"Fine," she sighed and faced the wall of bottles behind them. "I'll start you off easy. Just teach you the more popular drinks here."

"Well, you don't need to show me what a rum and Coke is," he quipped. She rolled her eyes. Dean kept quiet. His humor was obviously wasted on her.

She reached up to the row of hanging glasses above their heads. She pointed at one style before removing it from the long wooden slot.

"Caesars are pretty basic," she said, holding the glass in front of his face. "It's served in this style glass. The only time you put it in a different glass is if someone specifically asks for it." She turned on the tiny faucet to the left of the mixing area.

"Why are you washing it," Dean asked, one eyebrow raised.

"You need to get the top wet so the rimmer will stick," she said as she shook the excess water off the glass. Dean bit his lip and snorted. She shot him an unimpressed look. He tried another innocent look.

She flipped the lid off of a small round container. Inside was a mixture of different seasonings. She placed the edge of the glass in the mixture and twisted it slightly.

"Give it a little twist, and make sure the edge is evenly covered in the rimmer mix," she said, holding up the glass.

Dean could not hold back the small bark of laughter. She narrowed her eyes at him.

"How old did you say you were again?" She asked suspiciously.

"Twenty one, Ma'am," Dean said, trying to stop from smiling. At least this time he was telling the truth.

She shook her head and walked him through the steps of the rest of the drink.

She walked him through the steps of making Margaritas as well. Everything was going well. She ran the fancy stemmed glass under the tap once more and flipped open another rounded container.

"Like the Caesar, you need to make sure that the rimmer is even around the edge of the glass," she said as she twisted the glass in the salt. Dean laughed again.

Sally placed her hands on her hips and raised her eyebrows at him.

"Alright, cowboy. Care to share the joke with the rest of the class?" Her voice was tinted with exasperation. Dean looked at the floor and rubbed the back of his neck.

"Well, uh," he started. "I can't help but laugh every time you mention the word rimmer." She rolled her eyes.

"Got that much figured out," she retorted. "Care to explain why?"

He quirked an eyebrow at her in disbelief.

"You don't know," he said, the corners of his mouth twitching. She shook her head. Dean rubbed his neck once again.

"Uh, well, uh," he said, nervous laughter sneaking in between words. "A rimmer is when someone, you know, licks your hole."

She gave him a confused look.

"You know," he said nervously. "Your asshole."

"Oh," she said. Dean watched as shocked realization washed over her face. "OH!" One hand went to her mouth as she started giggling. Dean burst into full out laughter.

"That's disgusting!" She laughed. "Anyone ever tried that on me, they'd get kicked!"

"I know!" Dean laughed.

Their laughter died down as a customer walked in.

"Showtime, cowboy," she smiled at him, giving him a playful nudge in the shoulder.

It was a busy night. Dean and Sally kept up a friendly banter all night, both of them giggling every time they made a Margarita or a Caesar.

At the end of the night, Dean waited outside with Sally as she locked the door.

"You got a ride?" She asked. Dean shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

"Nah, gonna walk," he said. "Staying over at the Willow Branch Motel."

"Cowboy, I am not going to let you walk four miles at this time of night," she said. She tipped her head. "I got a couch you can crash on, and you can walk back in the morning."

Dean shook his head. "Can't do that," he said. "Don't want to put you out."

"You're not putting me out," she said. She tugged on the sleeve of his coat. Dean followed her up the metal stairs that ran up the side of the building.

Once in the small apartment, she grabbed a spare pillow and blanket for him.

Dean stood in the living room, jacket off and hands in his back pockets. He had a lopsided smile on his face. She dropped the pillow and blanket on the floor.

"Who the hell am I kidding," she muttered. She walked backwards towards her bedroom, unbuttoning her shirt.

"Just no rimming," she said as Dean followed.

"No problem."

Several years later, Dean and Sam ended up back at that same bar. Dean asked if Sally was still around. She didn't work there any more, but popped in occasionally.

"I'll have a Caesar," Sam said to the bartender. "Light on the rimmer, please."

Dean burst into laughter.

"For God's sake, Dean, grow up," Sam moaned.


	11. Not Just For Dental Surgery

**Pairing:** Dean/OFC

**Prompt: **latex

**A/N:** Set in s4 ep _After School Special_

* * *

Dean loved going down on women. Dean didn't want to think about the possible psychological reasons to why he loved to worship vaginas. That was Sam nagging in his brain, not him.

He loved how every woman looked different, and tasted different too. It felt fantastic how each of them twitched differently under his touch. He had a long list of tricks, something for everyone who was lucky enough to get his face between her thighs.

As vulgar as it may sound, Dean loved getting messy down there. He would probably just sit and run his cheeks along wet folds if women didn't find it so strange. Since the first time he licked a girl at fifteen, he's loved the lingering musky smell on his hands and lips for hours afterwards.

But the best was when some women squirted. Not every woman does, but Dean loves it. It adds to his love of getting messy.

But Dean is disappointed. The girl, and yes, even though she's legal, she's still in high school which means she's a girl, insisted on a dental dam.

Since when the hell did kids pay attention in Sex Ed class?

His duties as Phys Ed teacher at Truman High School involved sexual health with the cheerleaders. Of course, he jumped at the idea. But in actuality, trying to talk about condoms and diaphragms to a group of giggly, uninterested girls was not as cool as he thought it would be.

He really hopes that the principal doesn't find out the samples of condoms he handed out came from his own personal supply.

It figures that one of them asked what a dental dam was. In all seriousness and teacher-like voice, he explained how to properly hold and lubricate the square of latex. Much to his amazement, one of the legal aged cheerleaders, Vanessa something, held her hand in the air. She asked if it was absolutely necessary to use one every time.

"Well," he said in his best teacher voice, "always use protection unless you and your partner have both been tested."

And that phrase is the reason why he now tastes nothing but latex as Vanessa is spread out on the desk in the Phys Ed office. But he still gives it all he's got. Layer of latex or not, he still loves being buried between a woman's legs.

"Oh God, Mr. Roth," she panted. Her hand gripped the short blond spikes on the top of his head and bucked. He pressed against her clit harder. She sucked in a deep breath before letting loose a loud groan and squeezed her legs.

Dean felt a few drops of warm liquid hit the hand holding the bottom of the square of latex.

He really fucking hated this school.


End file.
